Birthday Sex
by jazztrousers
Summary: Ichigo starts making Renji a cake for his birthday. Starts. PORN!


Renji hated birthdays.

Not in the sense of getting a year older – hell, he practically cheered it on as a victory over his past circumstances. No, it was in the sense of it being some sort of 'event'…which people inevitably forgot or celebrated rather awkwardly. All in all, he was normally relieved when no one remembered.

He found himself thinking a little differently today, however, as he glanced at Ichigo with an appraising smirk. _Maybe it's time to re-evaluate this birthday thing…_

_...I mean, how many guys come home from work on their birthday to find their lover stark naked -save for a scarf and some splatters of vanilla frosting- spread-eagled on his couch, feverishly jerking themselves off and moaning the birthday boy's name?  
><em>  
>Ichigo twitched and bucked his hips as his hand flickered between his legs, stroking and pulling his aching length.<p>

"Ahh... R-renji..." he keened softly, his eyes screwed shut. "Renji..."

"Uh... yeah?"

"...FUCK!"

Ichigo's eyes flew open in horror as the man who he'd been fantasizing about stood before him, perplexed but amused. And home from his duties a lot earlier than Ichigo had bargained for.

"So... uh... what're you doing?" Renji asked slowly, trying to keep the laughter from his voice. Ichigo looked embarrassed and liable to turn violent in a situation such as this, but the urge to tease him was overwhelming.

"I-i... Fuck you. You're not even supposed to be home yet!"

"That's not very nice, kid. Taichou gave me the afternoon off - It's my birthday and you're jerking off in my living room, I got the right to ask why don't I?"

"I'm not... It's not like that!" Ichigo protested, grimacing at how high and indignant his voice emerged.

"Then what are ya doing?" Renji questioned, grinning. He eyed up the naked teen on his couch, and noticed the white paste on his flushed skin and the navy blue scarf thrown around his neck and chin. "What's that stuff? And why're ya wearing my scarf?"

Ichigo moved from sitting on his hands to having them folded in his lap, trying to cover his flagging erection, and finally met Renji's incredulous gaze.

"I can explain. Honestly, I can. What happened was..."

_**~TWO HOURS EARLIER~**_

Ichigo let himself into Renji's house a little over-cautiously considering the big redhead wouldn't be home for at least another five hours. Under his arm he carried a sack of the things he'd need- eggs, milk, butter, sugar, vanilla, flour. Ichigo had never even attempted something like this before, but he'd seen Yuzu do it enough times, how hard could it be? Squeezing a few extra days into his trip before he had to return to the world of the living had been difficult enough, so this -Ichigo chuckled to himself- should be a piece of cake.

He settled himself in Renji's kitchen -a mess, he noted- and started looking for the correct equipment. A large bowl- _check, but dirty_. Some scales- _check, but dusty as hell_. Cutlery and mixing tools-_ plenty around, mostly in a dirty pile in the sink_. Ichigo sighed and rolled up the sleeves of his black shihakusho, and began washing them all up. _That idiot had better be grateful... I'm making him a cake _and_ cleaning his kitchen_. Still, at the end of it he'd get to eat cake, so that was something.

After washing and drying all the things he'd need, Ichigo began sifting and combining the batter for the sponge part of the cake in a big bowl, and gazed out of the window by the sink, suddenly wishing Renji would come home. He wondered if he was as big a part of Renji's life as Renji was in his. Or if he just thought he was a stupid kid. A stupid kid that was good for a quick fuck. And cake baking and kitchen cleaning and who knows what else he'd be willing to do. _No. Renji isn't like that- he's a good man. He wouldn't do something like that. He may be an idiot, but... he's my idiot.  
><em>  
>The late August air of the Soul Society whistled through an open window, chilling Ichigo's exposed arms as he tried to squash and beat the hard butter into the egg yolk. It was getting a little cold, and Ichigo hadn't brought any warmer clothes with him. He put down the bowl and the spoon on a side surface and paced around, looking for something to wear, before wandering into Renji's bedroom. It was a lot tidier than the kitchen, a few books and pens littered on top of the messily folded-away futon and... <em>aha!<em> In a corner, by a low table, was a navy blue woollen scarf. _Perfect_. Ichigo picked it up and draped it around his neck and the bottom quarter of his face before going back into the kitchen to continue his baking. _The cake mix was almost ready to go into the oven, if he could just find a baking tin, and the frosting just needed a splash more vanilla and... hmm?_

Ichigo took a deep, shuddering breath in and his whole world seemed to intensify, and... _heat itself_ somehow. He could smell... He could swear he smelt... sex? No, not sex. _Renji._ He could smell Renji. It was the scarf. It smelled of Renji- hot and dark and tangy, like sand and leather and satsumas. It flooded his senses and filled his mind's eye with... _images_. Images of big hands, rough lips, soft hair, wet tongues... Ichigo involuntarily shivered a little. The sensation of Renji's skin on his- the _taste_ of his skin, how it felt to suck and lick on those jagged tattoos, to lave the sweat from his gleaming, muscular-

The bowl of frosting Ichigo had been fervently whisking clattered to his feet, the impact sending globs of smooth, vanilla goo splattering all over him. It would seem his hands were too clammy to hold the mixing bowl properly. He flinched at the sticky frosting colliding with his skin, but was too caught up in his reverie to really care. He was hard- rock hard, and the scarf around his neck just wasn't helping. Maybe, if he'd been a bit less aroused, feeling less tingly and hot and primal, it would have been the scarf that Ichigo removed, calmed down a little and finished making Renji's birthday cake. But that wasn't the way it transpired, and as Ichigo draped his shihakusho over the back of the couch in the living room and started pulling down his hakama, he distantly hoped that after relieving himself now he'd be ready again for Renji's birthday fuck later.

"So you got yourself all horny from sniffin' my scarf? I'm not gonna lie, that's a little weird."

"...Shut up!"

"Oh well. At least it wasn't my underwear, I guess..."

"Shut your damn mouth!"

"Hey! Don't get so upset, Ichigo..." Renji sat down next to the still-naked boy and grinned wolfishly at him. "You were gonna make me a cake? Aren't you cute."

"Yeah, I was... But I'm not cute!"

"Sure you're not. Hang on a second."

Ichigo watched as the larger man got up and walked through into the kitchen and rummaged for something, and then returned triumphant. He blinked up at him, confused before- _oh, fuck._  
>Renji was brandishing the bowl of frosting and the whisk.<p>

"What are you-"

Ichigo's next words were muffled by three fingers covered in vanilla buttercream being stuffed into his mouth, forcefully but lovingly.  
><em>No<em>, thought Renji, _birthdays aren't so bad at all._

The end.


End file.
